Chapter 5 Zayne

CHAPTER FIVE

Zayne Thornwell stood alone in the quiet of his penthouse, city lights giving way to early morning gray. The gala had ended hours ago, but the storm inside him hadn't settled.

He'd barely slept.

His reflection in the tall window mirrored a man at war with himself - suit jacket still hanging off a dining chair, tie undone since midnight, jaw tight. The gala had been a success on the surface. Press coverage was already calling it "the event of the year."

But he hadn't been able to shake that moment.

Lana.

She was never supposed to show up. Yet she did. Uninvited. Unshaken. And wearing that knowing smile.

It wasn't just her presence. It was how she looked at him.

Like she still knew what he was trying to forget.

His phone buzzed where it lay face-down on the table. He didn't move. He already knew what it was. The board. PR alerts. Messages from Vee Kross, no doubt spinning something, always lurking for a slip-up.

Then came a knock - deliberate, firm.

Zayne tensed.

Only a few people had access to his penthouse.

Another knock.

He opened the door slowly to find Papa J standing there, holding a folded newspaper. His face unreadable.

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CHAPTER FIVE (continued)

"Boardroom Storm"

The Thornwell Enterprises boardroom was sleek and blindingly white, its glass walls overlooking the skyline. But the tension inside made the room feel smaller than ever.

Zayne entered, late by two minutes. Everyone noticed.

Gerald Roth, the oldest board member, was already mid-sentence. He didn't stop.

"-and while last night was undoubtedly a spectacle, I think we can agree the press didn't exactly wake up impressed."

Zayne took his seat at the head of the table. Silent. Controlled. But internally, already calculating.

Valentina Kross sat directly across from him, her red lips curled into a smirk like she owned the room.

"The press loves drama, Zayne," she said smoothly. "Too bad Thornwell Enterprises is serving it for free now."

Kene Okafor cleared his throat, trying to cut the tension.

"There's no confirmation the source was internal"

"But there's no denial either," Gerald interrupted. "And investors don't like maybes."

Zayne's fingers tapped slowly on the table.

"If there's a mole, I'll find them," he said coldly. "And if this is just a publicity stunt from our competitors-" his eyes landed on Valentina "-they'll regret dragging my family's legacy through their mud."

Valentina chuckled.

"Relax, Zayne. We're all friends here."

"You're no friend of mine," he snapped.

Everyone went still.

Papa J, standing quietly by the door, gave a subtle nod. He'd been in this world long enough to know when things were shifting. And they were.

Zayne straightened.

"I'll be handling this directly. Any statements go through Kene. And I want an internal report in twenty-four hours. If someone's leaking from within, I will bury them."

Valentina's smile never faded, but her eyes glinted with challenge.

As the meeting broke, she leaned in close enough for only Zayne to hear.

"Careful, darling. Dig too deep, and you might not like what you find."

She walked away, heels echoing like gunshots.

Zayne stood still. Calm on the surface. But the fire inside was burning now.

And it wasn't just about business anymore.

It was personal.

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"You should see this, Zayne," the older man said quietly.

Zayne took the paper. The headline made his blood run cold:

"Thornwell Gala Stunner: Anonymous Source Claims Internal Sabotage and Hidden Romance"

His hand curled into a fist. The media storm had begun - and someone wanted chaos.

From behind Papa J, the elevator doors slid open again.

Zayne's heart dropped as Zara stepped out, eyes wide, holding her phone.

"Zayne," she said softly, "is it true?"

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CHAPTER FIVE (Final Scene)

Lana Imani's POV

The phone buzzed for the third time.

Lana didn't answer. She couldn't.

She stood in front of the large mirror in her apartment, the reflection staring back at her more tired than she remembered. Her usually sharp eyeliner was smudged, mascara threatening to betray her calm.

She hadn't slept.

Zayne's face from the gala replayed in her head-his clenched jaw, his unfazed posture when the scandal broke, the quiet panic only someone like her would have noticed.

"It's starting," she murmured to herself.

Her fingers grazed the edge of the drawer. The journal-the one she'd promised never to read again-lay inside.

But promises were weak things when buried truths threatened to claw their way to the surface.

She opened it.

A familiar page.

"If something happens to me, it won't be an accident."

- StephenThornwell.

Lana closed the book, heart pounding.

She wasn't sure how much longer she could protect everyone.

Not Zara.

Not even Zayne.

Not when the past was bleeding into the present.

And certainly not when Khalil Monté had begun reaching out again.

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